It was 4 am – time to wake up and start all her chores for the day. This was her daily, middle-class routine. The house and the colony was always silent, save a few splashes of water and swallows from a bucket being immersed – sounds of some woman who probably got a head start, or just couldn’t sleep any longer.

Gloup phish

Gloup phish

She’d clean herself first so as to not spread the filth all over the house – this was the kind of dirt that no phenoil could remove.

She would then start.

Seeak seeak seeak seeak

Tuck tuck

Seeak seeak seeak seeak

Tuck tuck

Seeak seeak seeak seeak

Tuck tuck

Gloup phhiiissssh

Crick crick crick crick

Gloup phhiiissshhhhh

Crick crick crick crick

Gloup phhiiissshhhhhh

Crick crick crick crick

Some of her chores were mute – it was just her actions with the silence.

The low hum of the wet grinder would begin, change and subside as it worked. She would work along with it, washing and heating the pots that she will need to make breakfast with.

Kudutu kudutu kudutu kudutu

Kudutu kudutu kudutu kudutu

Kudutu kudutu kudutu kudutu

Tang, screat screat screat screat

Tang tang.

Kudut kudut kudut kudut kudut

Kudut kudut kudut kudut kudut

Kudut kudut kudut kudut kudut

Kud kud kud kud kud kud kud kud

Kud kud kud kud kud kud kud kud

Kud kud kud kud kud kud kud kud

Once she put the idlis to steam she went around the house with vibhudhi so that the gods may feel more welcome.

She’d have to get her children now - wash, scrub, and ready them for school. The colony was no longer silent – cycle bells, autos, newspaper deliverers, chai wallas, buses, cars, birds, dogs, and the old drunk on the corner all accompanied her in her chores.

She’d have to wait until the kids and her husband left before she could finish her last morning chore, vacuuming.

It was the same soundtrack for the past 25 years.

Once the first interlude was over, she would sip on coffee.

Screewwuupp aah

Screewwwupppp aahh

She never liked sitting with her thoughts for too long, it was unsettling. She always felt like something needed to be settled but she had no idea what. She turned on the radio to take her mind of off what she didn’t know.

“I only buy ready mix masala for my family, because their health is my wealth!” advertisements were on.

“don’t worry, any son would be lucky to have you now that you have ready mix masala!” she mouthed along with them, she’d heard them so many times.

She imagined that the fair actress would swing her hair and smile enthusiastically as she was making all the right choices for her family. She didn’t feel like one of them though. She never made choices because it would maker her family happy or because it was the best for her family. She never made a choice. It was the only thing she knew.

She could care less if her husband or her kids didn’t like the chutney, or the firmness of the idli that day, but it was like brushing her own teeth. There was only one way, and it always happened to be perfect. She was perfect, accidently, of her own accord.

Today she sipped her coffee too long. Something changed, she felt disgusted by the advertisements. She had to stop it. She had things to do, people to please. These pots were not going to use themselves.

She started to pick up where she left of, which was vacuuming now that everyone had left, but she noticed a package outside the door.

When she picked it up she knew exactly what it was. Her thoughts were no longer ambiguous, but pointed and enraged.

She shook the package violently

Hhrrsshhhee hrrrshee hrrrshh

Ting ting ting

Hrrshhheee hrrsheee hrrrshh

She was no longer perfect.

Her mother-in-law had sent her glass bangles for Karva Chauth. She’d have to wear them and look pretty while fasting - her insides rotting with hunger and dishonesty so that her husband may live longer.

Now she didn’t care. She ripped open the package and emptied the contents into the wet grinder.

She left the lid off so she could watch as she turned on the machine. The low hum of the wet grinder was replaced with large crashes, that changed and changed but never subsided.

Kadulatakot Kadulatakot Kadulatakot Kadulatakot

Scrinch Scrinch scrinch scricnh, crack, srinch

She smiled, she slipped the ones she had been wearing and threw them in there too. Her breath was fast and shallow, she walked away from the machine as it worked

Kadulatakot kadulatakot kadulatakot scrinch scrinch scrinch scrinch.

The glass shards were on the ground too and she stepped on them. She wasn’t done.

She grabbed the vacuum so she could gather all the shards, or whatever she could gather.

The thought of some of the shards getting embedded in the idlis she would make for her husband for dinner thrilled her. She wanted to see his face as he consumed his own longevity.

ZZZwwwooooooooooooooooooooooooo

krrrlack tick kkkrrrlacckk ick krrlack

ZZZwwwooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Krrrlacckk tic krrrlack ick ick krrrlaaccckckkk

ZZZwwwwwwooooooooooooooooooooo

krrrlaacckkkk tick krrrrlllaacckkk ick krrrlack

She gathered all the shards arranged them on a plate and fed them to the microwave. They needed to be burned and mean as little as she did.

In six minutes she pulled the plate out with its bubbling and glowing contents. Ugly, and more beautiful than anything she had ever seen.